“Are we allowed to work with people outside our Year?” a male asked.
“First Years are limited to their own Year. It’s a tradition that dates back to when the academy was a war college, and the first year was meant to test whether you belonged at the academy or not. While we no longer prepare our students for war, we have kept the tradition of the trials. Should you pass all three and advance to Second Year, you will be able to form teams with students from Third and Fourth Year. It’s encouraged that Fourth Year students build teams they prepare for and lead through the trials.”
The room went still, a hush settling over the rows of desks as the weight of his words sank in. Encouraged to form teams. Led into the jaws of death by older students who’d already proved themselves. My stomach twisted. It wasn’t just about strength, knowledge, or even surviving one terrifying night—it was about belonging to something larger, proving youweren’t just an individual who stumbled into Blackthorne by mistake.
Sabelus’s gaze drifted across the room, sharp as a blade, before landing on the packet in his hands. “Each of you will study these creatures—their habits, weaknesses, and strengths. Some of you will overestimate your ability to outwit them. Some of you will underestimate their cunning. Both mistakes will cost lives.”
“Professor,” the male from before called out. “Surely if we’re expected to fight beasts, the academy will provide us with appropriate weapons. It would be rather… unfair to pit us against things designed to slaughter without offering proper defenses.”
“Fair? This is not a game of fairness, Mr. Ashbourne. This is the trials. You will live or die by your skill and wit. Beyond that, you are expected to rely on your training and education. Those of you who have relied on anything other than yourself to survive will fail.” A ripple of unease spread through the room, but Sabelus continued as if he hadn’t just ripped away any hope of a safety net. “The trials are meant to test your ability to survive Blackthorne itself. The academy was built to forge the strong and break the weak. It is up to you to prove you are the former.”
I forced myself to steady my breathing, unsure when it had grown ragged and uneven. I still didn’t understand why the academy upheld such a barbaric tradition, but I refused to be one of the names whispered in the common room next term. One way or another, I was going to survive the trials.
Sabelus snapped the packet closed and looked out over us one final time. “Dismissed. Take the rest of the week to familiarize yourselves with these creatures. We begin practical demonstrations when we reconvene next week. And pray that you are not the first to bleed.”
Chairs scraped against the stone floor, the room buzzing with nervous energy as students gathered their papers and hurried out. I tucked mine under my arm, the words ObservedPatterns and Weaknesses staring back at me like a threat. As I stepped into the corridor, a chill ran through me. The trials were no longer some future possibility—they were a rapidly approaching reality that could very likely mean my death.
Chapter Forty-Two
Bechora
It seemed like I blinked, and the trials were upon us. Shadrie, Miles, Zypher, Gabriel, and I were gathered in the living room of my dorm, spending the evening together before the first trial the next morning. Part of me wanted to grab them all and run to the human realm, even though I knew it wasn’t possible.
“So, what do you think the first trial will be like?” Miles asked, snagging a Twizzler from the package in Shadrie’s hands. Shadrie scowled and swatted his hand.
“My First Year trials were difficult,” Zypher said. “The Labyrinth of Lies was probably the worst of them, though I doubt that will be something you face this year.”
“The Labyrinth of Lies?” Shadrie asked.
Zypher inclined his head, his expression as grave as I’d ever seen it. “A maze woven with illusions so real you could not tell what was truth and what was fabrication. Every wrong turn showed you a vision crafted to break your will. Some students never made it back out.”
I shivered and pressed myself deeper into Gabriel’s side. “But we won’t have to go through that one, right? All of my professors said the trials are different every year.”
“Correct,” Gabriel answered. “They don’t want us able to prepare. I’ve heard rumors the academy itself creates the trials, so students are faced with their deepest fears and greatest weaknesses.”
“My coven spoke of the sentient nature of the academy before I was accepted,” Miles said, pushing his glasses up hisnose. “But it can’t create all three trials if we’re meant to work as a team through some of them.”
“Not every student faces the same three trials,” Zypher said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “My first trial, I was alone with only my shielding and illusion abilities to aid me. My access to my inherent demon magic was cut off. I couldn’t summon hellfire or shift into my demon form.”
“They can cut off your magic?” I gasped.
Zypher’s arm tightened around me. “Yes, and they did. Though it was only demon students who experienced such a trial.”
“That’s not right,” Shadrie hissed. “They shouldn’t be allowed to treat demon students like that.”
Zypher shrugged, the motion almost careless, though I could feel the tension in the arm still looped around my shoulder. “Fairness is not part of the academy’s design. It never has been. The trials are meant to expose weaknesses, and for demons, that weakness is overreliance on the abilities we hone from birth.”
“That’s still barbaric,” Shadrie scowled.
Gabriel gave a humorless laugh. “That is precisely the point. For all my father’s faults, he drilled that into my head before sending me to the academy. As much as the professors harp on using our abilities to pass them, it’s usually cunning and preparation that mean survival.”
“We won’t know what our first trial is until tomorrow. How are we supposed to prepare for that?” I asked, a weight settling in the pit of my stomach.
“You can’t, Dilectus,” Zypher said simply. “Not in the way you want. The academy is designed to strip us bare, break us down, and build us into something stronger.”
“Well, that’s depressing,” Shadrie scoffed. “I say we forget about our impending doom and enjoy our evening before we work ourselves up and are too nervous to stand a chance tomorrow.”
We did just as Shadrie suggested. The evening driftedby in a haze of laughter, teasing, and the kind of easy companionship that made the looming trials fade to the edges of my mind. We played a few silly games with the leftover candy, Miles and Shadrie bickering in the background, while Zypher and Gabriel occasionally traded sharp remarks that almost—almost—sounded like humor.
